


forever and always

by marvelinsanity



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers x You - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:08:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelinsanity/pseuds/marvelinsanity
Summary: you’ve long since given up on hoping for a better future, but steve’s there to remind you that there’s still something worth living for. and you grow to realize that maybe, just maybe, that something was him.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	forever and always

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written for steve in months and this is one of the first things i wrote on tumblr since picking up where i last left off with my hiatus, so i apologize if it's shitty RIP. anyways i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> also i'm sorry if this was really short oops

Amidst the aftermath of the Snap’s destruction, things were a complete mess. You found it hard to do so much as get up in the morning when the world had stopped moving forward—what was the point of waiting up for something that wouldn’t go on?

There were many nights in which you slid into bed and hoped you’d never wake up again and yet, you did wake up—in the early hours of the morning. And despite it all, you kept going. You kept going, you pushed yourself to make it through the day because you knew that nobody else would do it for you. 

You hardly ever got any quality sleep. If you were lucky, you’d get a solid two or three uninterrupted hours, and five was unheard of. You were falling—and Steve, being as observant as he was, noticed. 

He noticed how you’d lost the light to your face. You no longer glowed like you used to when you were fully engaged in a conversation. Your smile, that is, if you smiled at all, never reached your eyes. It was rather easy for him to differentiate a fake one from a real one—and he could tell you were struggling to maintain the façade. 

Steve felt guilty. Here you were, doing everything you could to stay afloat and pouring your heart and soul into keeping everyone else on the team happy and healthy, but you never found time to take care of yourself. He wanted to help. Seeing the woman he’d known for as long as he could remember slowly fall apart broke him—and the fact that there was little to nothing he could do about it only made it worse.

It was another one of those late nights for you. Natasha had tried to talk you out of helping her, but the pure exhaustion in her eyes was evident—so you’d convinced her to go to bed (you knew she hadn’t done this in days) and took over.

Rhodey had a solemn look on his face as you pulled up his hologram. “Hey, Y/N…where’s Nat? Are you guys alright?”

“Yeah…how about you? Where are you right now?”

“Mexico. The Federales found a room full of bodies,” he answered with his arms crossed over his chest, “it looks like a bunch of cartel guys…never even had the chance to get their guns off.”

“It’s probably a rival gang, then,” you shrugged.

“Except it isn’t. It’s definitely Barton. What he’s done here, what he’s been doing for the past few years…the scene that he left…I gotta tell you, there’s a part of me that doesn’t even wanna find him.”

You were silent for a moment as you comprehended his words. “Will you find out where he’s going next, check in when you hear something?” You looked at him hopefully. “Please? We can’t just…we can’t just give up now.”

"Alright, I’ll let you know,” he said with a sigh, before disappearing from the room.

Your gut instinct was to call Steve, but before you could find your hand on your phone, you pulled it back. He was probably busy at the moment—you didn’t want to burden him any further when he already had enough on his mind.

Placing your hands on the edges of the desk, you pushed yourself out of your seat and got up. You grabbed a glass out of the pantry and decided to pour yourself a cup of cold water to clear your head, ignoring the sharp hunger pangs in your stomach that told you it really had been forever since you’d last had a proper meal that wasn’t three cups of coffee and half a banana. And that had been four days ago. 

You were often too busy drowning in your own thoughts to focus on anything else.

Out of nowhere you’re hit with a splitting migraine that has you struggling to stay standing upright and suddenly the world is spinning and everything is blurring together you can’t breathe. As if it was going in slow motion, the glass fell out of your hand and shattered into a million tiny crystalline fragments upon hitting the floor, and you sank down with it. 

You felt the sharp edges digging into the palms of your hands and the bottoms of your feet and it stung, but compared to what you’d been through in the past, it was nothing. The metallic smell of blood overwhelmed your senses. The tears kept coming and coming and your head was hurting, your body ached immensely—everything hurt. 

Steve quietly entered the compound and immediately stopped in his tracks when he reached the kitchen.

“…Y/N?”

You tried opening your mouth to speak, but no words came out—instead, a hoarse cry escaped your lips—and the sound sent daggers straight through his heart. There’s crimson stains on your shirt and on the kitchen floor; you’re covered in blood and sweat and tears and there’s glass everywhere. It’s a complete mess, but he doesn’t care. 

Disregarding the complete kitchen disaster around him, he carefully kneels down next to you and pulls you forward, and you collapse into his arms.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t say a thing as you let it all out. Your tears begin leaving dark spots on his shirt but he remains quiet. He’s dead silent. Steve brings a hand to the back of your head and gently pushes it towards his chest, and you continue sobbing into his shoulder as he smooths your hair back and uses his other arm to pull you closer. 

You clutch his shirt with every ounce of energy you have left. You cry and cry and cry until you feel like your throat is going to tear apart from the sheer force of it and your seemingly never-ending river of tears has finally run dry. You’re not sure exactly how long you’re like this for—sitting in the middle of the cold kitchen floor, wrapped up in his arms and clinging to him as if he was your sole remaining lifeline—but you’re there for a while. And he’s patient, whispering soothing words of encouragement and sweet nothings into your ear to calm you down.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

<><><><><><><><><><>

You’re quietly sitting on the edge of the bathtub as Steve is kneeling in front of you and picking the glass out of your skin. He winces when he thinks he’s being too rough, but you don’t even do so much as flinch. 

He dips a cotton boll into the small bowl of alcohol on the counter, starting to gently dab on the cuts scattered across your knuckles and cheeks. Steve wants to ask why you were in such a state when he found you, but he knows better than to pry. He knows that before anything else, he’s supposed to be there for you—to listen.

“I miss them,” you mumbled. 

“I know. I miss them too.”

You glanced up at him with glassy eyes, and his heart shatters all over again. “Do you think we could get them back?“

“Of course. There’s always hope.”

“…You really think so?”

“Ever since you came into my life, I never stopped. Hoping, that is.” Steve cleared his throat. “If we can find a reason to keep going, then I don’t see why we can’t achieve anything we want.”

You cracked a small smile at his words, and he reached up and gingerly wiped away the remnants of your tears. When his hand finds its place against your cheek, you place your own hand over it—and let it stay.

You were ready to go. You were planning to leave for good, but seeing his piercing yet gentle blue eyes and breathtaking smile pushed you to stay. If you couldn’t keep going for yourself, you had to at least do it for him. 

And so you did.


End file.
